Chapter 2 — Preparations and Reservations

Leona

The sharp chill of winter brushed against the windows of St. Evergreen Hospital as Leona Hartley stood at her desk, her hazel eyes scanning the pages of a patient file. The steady rhythm of the hospital’s heartbeat pulsed around her—monitors beeping, footsteps echoing in the hallway, and the low murmur of conversations between staff. Ordinarily, she found solace in this cacophony of purpose. It was predictable, structured, controlled. But today, an uncharacteristic unease had settled in her chest, disrupting that control.

Unlike the usual pressure of an upcoming surgery or the intricacies of a complex case, this was something unfamiliar. Her gaze drifted to the corner of her desk where a small, colorful note rested—a page torn from Sienna’s Encouragement Journal.

"Step out of the OR and into the world, Hartley. You might like it for once. 😊 – Sienna"

Leona had stared at the note for longer than she cared to admit, her fingers tracing the edge of the paper. It was classic Sienna—bold, teasing, and just pointed enough to land its mark. Alongside the note, Sienna herself had stood earlier that morning, arms crossed and her dark eyes twinkling with mischief as she declared, "You’re coming to the party. No excuses."

Leona rubbed her temple as the words replayed in her mind. The annual New Year’s party was a tradition at St. Evergreen, a chance for the staff to unwind, to connect outside the rigid walls of professionalism. And every year, Leona had avoided it without consequence. But Sienna’s persistence—and the small, guilty ache it unearthed in her—had worn her down. She hated how it made her feel as if she were failing some unspoken test of being human.

The thought tugged deeper than she wanted to admit. Social events like this chipped at her carefully constructed control, exposing her to the one thing she disliked more than failure—vulnerability. What if she said the wrong thing? Or worse, what if people saw beneath her polished exterior?

Her hand drifted unconsciously to the engraved scalpel charm hanging from her neck. The smooth metal felt reassuringly familiar, a reminder of her purpose, her precision, her carefully curated identity as a surgeon. But even as she clung to it, doubt crept in. Was she being selfish by keeping herself at such a distance from her colleagues? Was that what Sienna saw?

A sharp rap at her office door startled her from her thoughts. "Speak of the devil," Leona muttered under her breath, just as Sienna Morales poked her head in.

"Still pretending you’re too busy to talk to me?" Sienna teased, stepping fully into the office without waiting for an invitation. She wore a bright red scarf that clashed delightfully with her festive scrubs, and her hands were occupied by a garment bag slung over one arm.

"I am busy," Leona replied, her voice clipped, though her fingers hovered over the edge of the patient file as if she couldn’t quite bring herself to pick it up again. "What’s that?"

Sienna ignored the question, instead depositing the garment bag onto Leona’s desk and unzipping it with dramatic flair. "It’s called an outfit. You’ve heard of those, right? This one happens to be perfect for the party tomorrow night."

Leona’s gaze fell on the navy-blue dress inside—a simple yet elegant cut that flattered without drawing too much attention. Her immediate instinct was to protest, but Sienna anticipated her resistance, holding up a finger.

"Before you say no, just try it on. Please," Sienna said, her tone softening. The teasing edge in her voice gave way to something more sincere. "You work harder than anyone here, Leona. You’ve earned one night to relax, to just… exist outside of these walls. Let us take care of you for once."

Leona’s throat tightened at the unexpected tenderness in Sienna’s words. She hated how easily it exposed the ache she so carefully buried beneath layers of professionalism. A flicker of an old memory surfaced—her reflection in a mirror years ago, wearing a dress for her med school graduation. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d dressed up for something that wasn’t tethered to her career.

"I don’t know if I—"

"You do," Sienna interrupted firmly. "And Noah will be there."

At the mention of his name, Leona stiffened. "What does that have to do with anything?" she asked, her tone betraying nothing, though her fingers tightened imperceptibly on the garment bag.

Sienna smirked but didn’t press. "Nothing. Just thought I’d mention it. He’s been working hard to make this party special for everyone. Including you."

Leona exhaled sharply, knowing she was cornered. "Fine. I’ll go. But only to stop you from badgering me."

Sienna clapped her hands once, triumphant. "That’s the spirit!" She leaned down, her dark curls brushing her cheek as she whispered conspiratorially, "And maybe, just maybe, you’ll have fun."

"Highly unlikely," Leona muttered, but Sienna was already sweeping out of the office, leaving her alone with the dress and a head full of swirling thoughts.

---

The next evening arrived all too quickly. Snow dusted the city streets, and the sharp bite of winter wind rattled the hospital’s glass doors as Leona stood hesitantly in front of her mirror. The dress fit perfectly, its clean lines and muted color feeling like a compromise between Sienna’s insistence and her own desire to remain inconspicuous.

She had paired it with low heels—practical, as always—and tied her hair back into a sleek bun. Her engraved scalpel charm hung from a delicate chain around her neck, its familiar weight a small comfort. Adjusting the chain, her fingers lingered on the engraving. Her father had given it to her when she became a surgeon, a reminder of the precision and discipline that defined her life. It felt strange to wear it to something so… frivolous.

"You look stunning," she told her reflection dryly, though the sarcasm did little to mask her discomfort.

By the time she arrived at the venue, the snow had begun to fall more heavily, painting the world in soft shades of white. The venue itself—an event hall on the city’s outskirts—glowed warmly against the backdrop of the storm. Twinkling string lights framed its entrance, and the muffled sounds of laughter and music spilled out into the cold night air.

Leona hesitated just outside the door, her fingers tightening around the strap of her bag. The warmth and cheer inside felt like a barrier she wasn’t sure she could cross. She thought of the hospital, of the patients whose charts she could be reviewing instead of standing here, and considered retreating.

Her hand drifted to the charm at her neck again, her thumb brushing over the engraved letters. She closed her eyes for a moment, steadying herself. Sienna’s words echoed faintly in her mind: "Let us take care of you for once."

The door swung open before she could overthink further, and there he was.

Noah Callahan stood framed in the golden light of the entryway, his sandy blond hair slightly tousled, and his ever-present smile as disarming as ever. He wore a crisp button-down shirt paired with dark slacks, his usual casual charm elevated just enough for the occasion. But what stood out most was the small enamel pin on his badge—a cartoon heart with googly eyes, wiggling cheerfully as he moved.

"Leona!" he greeted warmly, his blue eyes lighting up as he stepped aside to let her in. "I was starting to think you’d changed your mind."

For a moment, she was too caught off guard to speak. His voice was so genuinely glad, so full of warmth, that it chipped away at her usual defenses. "Almost did," she admitted, her voice steadier than she felt.

"Well, I’m glad you didn’t. It wouldn’t feel right without you." His words, so casually sincere, settled into her chest like a weight she couldn’t quite name.

"Thanks," she managed, stepping past him into the warmth of the hall.

The hall was transformed, its usual rustic charm enhanced by festive decorations. Garlands of pine and snowflakes dangled from the ceiling, while a crackling fireplace in the corner cast a cozy glow. Staff members mingled in small groups, their laughter rising above the soft strains of music. Amid it all, Sienna waved enthusiastically from across the room, already deep in conversation with Anna.

"Can I get you something to drink?" Noah asked, his voice drawing her attention back to him.

She shook her head, though the gesture felt stiff. "I’m fine, thank you."

He studied her for a moment, his gaze gentle but probing, before nodding. "Well, if you change your mind, let me know. And don’t let Sienna rope you into karaoke unless you’re ready for full audience participation."

A small, unexpected smile tugged at her lips. "I’ll keep that in mind."

As he moved away to greet another colleague, Leona found herself lingering by the edge of the room, unsure of where to place herself. She watched Noah as he moved through the crowd, his warmth and humor effortlessly drawing people in. It was a skill she envied—this ability to connect, to belong.

Her fingers brushed against the scalpel charm at her neck, the familiar motion grounding her. She could do this. One night. One party.

And maybe, just maybe, she’d find something worth staying for.